


a breath, a pulse, an even drum

by NoHappyEnding



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 04:17:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8875606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoHappyEnding/pseuds/NoHappyEnding
Summary: Life crumbles between the crevices of Baekhyun's fingers as he's labeled a defective and is stomped on by society, ripped away from the person he loves most and discarded as a broken toy.





	

Baekhyun pulls his long sleeves over his wrists, letting out a long sigh. The early spring wind rustles cherry blossom trees, and the sun appears between clouds. Sunshine filters over the city; Baekhyun basks in it, thankful for the tranquility in the area. 

He hears stumbling behind him, and recognizes the noises as Chanyeol. Baekhyun turns to look just as Chanyeol takes a seat beside him. He feels a hand at the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Baekhyun lets a smile bloom on his face as Chanyeol engulfs him in a long hug. “Baek.” He whispers, after pressing a kiss to the top of Baekhyun’s head. 

Baekhyun sighs again, and shuts his eyes. “Chanyeol…” He looks up, curling his fingers in the others’ shirt. “We’re 16, aren’t we?” 

“I’m turning 16, remember. And _you_ are too- soon. In fact, on the day of the official check.” Chanyeol grins, his eye twitching. It falters as he sees the look of apprehension cross the older’s face. “Baek- we’ve talked about this. I know you’re worried, but I’ve read stories of people getting their _imprint_ the _day_ before the final check.” Chanyeol bends down and tilts Baekhyun’s head upwards. “You trust me, don’t you?” He cups Baekhyun’s face with his hands and slants his lips against Baekhyun’s, feeling the smaller sigh into the kiss. “You love me, don’t you?” 

“Chanyeol- of course I love you.” Baekhyun hides his face in Chanyeol’s chest, and breathes in deeply. “It’s just crazy. We both haven’t gotten our _imprint_ s yet, and I’m just getting more worried. Each day.” He looks up, puppy eyes boring holes. “I’ve never heard of someone not getting their soulmate.” Chanyeol wraps his arms around Baekhyun, pulling him even closer. “I want it to happen soon, Yeol. That’s all.” 

“I know- me too.” He whispers, and drops his head to land on Baekhyun’s shoulder. “I love you.” He presses his lips against Baekhyun’s ear, and sees the other blush deep red. He pulls Baekhyun’s hand up, and flattens it against his chest- against his heartbeat. Baekhyun feels it pound steadily in his hand, evenly, like a drum. Chanyeol presses his hand against Baekhyun’s chest; their heartbeats are both the same pace. 

“I love you too.” 

\- 

Chanyeol pushes the door to his home open, lowering his head as he walks across the living room. His sister is sprawled across the couch, a TV remote in hand. The clanking of pots and pans in the kitchen rings throughout the whole house. He sees his mother at the stove; a phone is perched between her ear and shoulder. He frowns, knowing any time it could slip and break. Chanyeol climbs up the stairs three a time, hoping his father won’t notice him. 

“Chanyeol?” 

Of _course_ he would notice him. Life wasn’t fair that way. Chanyeol lets out a sigh, descending the stairs backwards in defeat. His father is standing with a rolled up newspaper in one hand, and his glasses in the other. He slides them on, and they perch at the edge of his nose. It makes him look stringent- matching his personality perfectly. 

“Yes, father?” 

“Have you done a personal check today?” Chanyeol licks his lips, swallowing before he speaks. 

“This morning, father.” 

“And?” His father looks expectantly. 

“Nothing, father.” Chanyeol shrugs, pulling at the hem of his t-shirt nervously. Of course he did a personal check for a name on his body this morning. It was a custom, highly advised by the government for all people below the age of 16. Usually teenagers found their soulmate’s name on their body by the age of 14. To have your soulmate’s name late was looked down upon highly. His father had married his mother, and they both have each other’s names on their bodies. Chanyeol’s older sister has her soulmate’s name on her wrist, and is planning to get married in the next two years. Scientists and politicians alike both stress on the importance of the _imprint_ , stating without it proper life would fail. 

His father dismisses him with a disappointed shake of a head, and unrolls the newspaper. The headline reads: “ _OUTERLANDERS SNEAK INTO LABORATORY FOR VACCINES- THREE ARE IMPRISONED. TWO ESCAPE.”_ Chanyeol lets out a huff and climbs up the stairs, stumbling into his bedroom before his eyes start shaking. 

Chanyeol pulls his t-shirt over his head, flinging it onto the floor. He loves Baekhyun- of course he does. He yanks his shoes off his feet, and throws them against the wall. Anger bubbles like boiling water at the bottom of his stomach. He slams the bedroom door closed, and slides against it until he’s on the floor. Before he can stop, tears spill out of him, slipping down his cheeks like waterfall streams. He sobs continuously, choking on his own tears, curling his nails into his biceps. He sees his reflection in his stand mirror, and bile sloshes in his belly. 

He touches his ankle, trailing fingers over the dark red ink. He rubs it fiercely, forcing it away. More tears fall as he finds it impossible; Chanyeol slumps over himself, seeing the skin on his ankle rubbed red. The red ink is written in neat print, and spells a name. Chanyeol bangs his head on the door, sobbing loudly. A wretched wail leaves his lungs. He catches his reflection in the mirror again. The red ink flashes, noticeable and unable to hide. 

It spells a name, and the name is not Baekhyun. 

\- 

Chanyeol scoots closer to Baekhyun on the park bench, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Happy birthday, ‘Yeol.” Baekhyun whispers, so quietly Chanyeol has to strain to hear. He pulls himself closer, throwing both of his legs over Chanyeol’s thighs as he hooks his hands around the taller’s neck. Baekhyun lifts his head and presses his lips against Chanyeol’s, dropping his jaw to slowly melt into the other’s lips. Chanyeol’s hands twist into Baekhyun’s hair at the nape of his neck, deepening the kiss before parting for breath. 

“The official check is tomorrow.” Chanyeol breathes against Baekhyun’s lips, tilting his head so his eyelashes flutter against Baekhyun’s cheek. “Are you scared?” 

“If we’re both bare by tomorrow, Chanyeol- I don’t know what will happen.” Baekhyun shuts his eyes tight, clasping his hands together. “Why is this happening to us?” 

“I- I don’t know.” Chanyeol answers honestly. He pushes down the guilt churning in his stomach. Baekhyun unhooks his arms around Chanyeol’s neck, sliding them under his shirt instead. He runs his palms over muscle and skin, letting them rest on his waist. They were now both 16; on May 6, there would be an official check. If you have your soulmate’s name inscribed onto your skin, this would be your final check. If you were 16, it would also be your final check. “I love you so much, Baekhyun. I want you to know that.” 

“We’re soulmates, right?” Baekhyun looks into Chanyeol’s eyes, searching deep for any swirls of doubt. “Promise me.” 

“We have to be.” Chanyeol wraps his fingers around Baekhyun’s bony wrist, lifting it up to his chest. 

“I love you so much it’s unreal.” Baekhyun almost laughs when he feels Chanyeol’s heartbeat pounding furiously against his palm. 

“We’ll be okay, Baek.” Chanyeol murmurs. He scatters kisses around Baekhyun’s neck and collarbones, nuzzling his nose in Baekhyun’s chest. “Do you want to go back to my house?” 

“Will your parents mind?” Baekhyun frowns. “You know how they think of me.” 

“They look down on you because you still don’t have your _imprint_. Big deal.” Chanyeol slides his hands under Baekhyun’s thighs, placing him softly onto the bench. He takes his hand, pulling him up to his feet. “Don’t be scared, Baekhyun.” 

There’s a pause, where silence infiltrates the air. Baekhyun looks up, only slightly, brown eyes meeting brown eyes. He reaches up to cup Chanyeol’s cheeks, pressing their foreheads together. 

“I’ll try.” 

\- 

Chanyeol has both knees on either side of Baekhyun’s waist. He looks down, sighing deeply at the sight of his boyfriend splayed out on the bed, dead black hair spread out against white sheets. He slowly tugs the long sleeve shirt off of Baekhyun, both of them smiling. Chanyeol leans down to kiss Baekhyun softly, open mouthed and languid, taking his time. He unbuttons Baekhyun’s jeans and pulls them down until they catch at his ankles. 

Baekhyun immediately grips Chanyeol’s wrist, fear spinning in his brown eyes. “Chanyeol, this is illegal. What if we get caught?” 

“What, for having sex?” Chanyeol scoffs, deep down knowing sex without your soulmate _is_ illegal. “It’s not like anyone will find out.” 

“You don’t have security cameras in your house?” Baekhyun asks, panic lining the edges of his words. Chanyeol shakes his head promptly. He only takes the jeans off Baekhyun’s feet when the smaller nods, showing his consent. “It’s our first time.” 

Baekhyun pulls Chanyeol’s shirt over his body, running his fingers over his biceps. “I know.” Chanyeol takes off his own jeans and underwear until he’s fully naked. He lowers his head and presses an open mouthed kiss on Baekhyun’s belly, holding down the squirming body beneath him. Chanyeol continues down, pulling Baekhyun’s black boxers off with his teeth. 

Baekhyun moans shamelessly as Chanyeol fists his cock, pumping it to full hardness. He gasps when Chanyeol licks the underside, and slides his thumb over the slit. “Chan-Chanyeol, _ah_.” 

Chanyeol flips them over, laughing as Baekhyun collapses on top of him. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful right now.” Chanyeol whispers, licking into Baekhyun’s mouth. Baekhyun sucks on Chanyeol’s bottom lip, relishing the abashed moan that escapes Chanyeol. He crawls down until his face is aligned with Chanyeol’s cock, and mouths at the length. He tilts his head slightly, looking into Chanyeol’s eyes in question. “I can’t even look at you right now or I might burst.” Chanyeol moans, fisting Baekhyun’s hair, pulling hard as his cock enters Baekhyun’s mouth. Regret fills him instantly at the possibility of hurting Baekhyun. 

Baekhyun’s lips stretch wide around the girth of Chanyeol’s cock. He starts bobbing his head and hollowing his cheeks, pulling back for deep breaths. Chanyeol moans loudly, encouraging the smaller boy. His hips thrust forwards on impulse, hitting the back of his throat. It triggers his gag reflex, which sends shivers up Chanyeol’s spine. Baekhyun pulls back and gulps as they’re flipped around again. 

“You look excited.” Baekhyun teases, and Chanyeol rolls his eyes. He spreads his legs as wide as they can, and Chanyeol pins them down on the bed. Chanyeol leaves for a moment, and comes back with a lotion bottle in hand. He squirts some of the droopy liquid over his finger, until it drip drops onto Baekhyun’s stomach. He hisses at the cold burn, flinching. Chanyeol smiles, respreading Baekhyun’s legs to the widest. Pinning both down with one arm, he slowly slides in his finger into Baekhyun’s hole, wincing at the pained wail Baekhyun lets out. “Ah- Chanyeol, slower!” Baekhyun whines, tears immediately spilling down his cheeks. 

“Baekhyun- I’m sorry.” Chanyeol whispers words of comfort in Baekhyun’s ear, distracting him as his finger goes in deeper. Baekhyun eventually nods, sucking in tears when Chanyeol shallowly thrusts the finger in and out, until Baekhyun’s writhing for more. Adding another finger, Chanyeol looks up to see Baekhyun’s expression, whispering reassuring words when he sees Baekhyun flinch. 

Chanyeol squirts the lotion onto his length, coating it with a generous amount before wiping his wet hand on the bedsheets. Then he hikes Baekhyun’s legs around his waist, leaning down to kiss Baekhyun slow and openmouthed before aligning his cock. In one slow movement, Chanyeol pushes in, flinching as Baekhyun shouts out in pain. “Ah!” He hisses as Chanyeol thrusts deeper, until he’s bottomed out. His chest heaves breaths of air as he adjusts to Chanyeol’s size and length, cheeks flushing red in exertion. 

Baekhyun digs his fingernails into Chanyeol’s shoulder blades as Chanyeol begins thrusting shallowly, in and out, at a slow but comfortable pace. “I love you Baekhyun.” He sighs against Baekhyun’s forehead, pressing a kiss there before leaning down to kiss Baekhyun on the mouth. 

“I love you too- _fuck_.” Baekhyun shuts his eyes as Chanyeol’s thrusts quicken. “ _Ah_ , a little faster.” 

Chanyeol obliges, until Baekhyun’s curling his fingers into the bedsheets, moaning shamelessly in chorus with Chanyeol. He gasps as Chanyeol aims his thrusts, hitting his prostrate directly. “Fuck! There, Chanyeol _ah_!” Tears slip down Baekhyun’s face as he squeezes his eyes shut in ecstasy. He fists his own cock, pumping until he cums over their torsos, panting breaths of air at the effort. Chanyeol thrusts even faster at the search of his orgasm, and cums deep inside Baekhyun. Afterwards, he slumps over his body, panting breathless into Baekhyun’s ear. 

He manages to catch the blinking light of the alarm clock on the nightstand, reading: _12:02._

“Happy 16 th Birthday, Byun Baekhyun.” 

\- 

“Byun Baekhyun, 15- no, 16 years old.” Baekhyun says to the woman sitting in front of him. The lady looks up with a small smile, before typing the information down on her computer. 

“Please take off all your clothes, and place them on the bench. When the light above the door flashes green you may enter.” The lady hums, as if in deep thought. “Obviously, because you’re 16, you must have your _imprint_ , yes?” 

Baekhyun swallows nervously, turning around quickly to avoid the woman’s gaze. He unbuttons his blouse with shaking hands, stripping his clothes off systematically as the lady hums an unknown tune behind him. 

“You have 45 seconds left, Byun Baekhyun.” She reprimands, as Baekhyun unbuttons his trousers. 

He pushes them down nervously, unhooking them from around his ankles. He peels his socks off and rids his boxers, turning around completely to stand before the door. He tries to stop the blush on his body at the lady’s stare. 

“When you enter in…” She casts a quick glance at the timer on the door. “20 seconds, a machine will inspect you. Stay completely still, hands out and feet shoulder width apart. Your eyes must be shut and you must be facing forwards. I must stress that you do not move, or you may get hurt.” The lady’s words hasten as the timer ticks. “In 5 seconds you will enter. Good luck.” 

The light flashes green, and the door lets out a stuttered groan before sliding open. Baekhyun takes a deep breath, and steps inside the silver room with a pounding chest. 

He immediately stands with his feet shoulder width apart and his hands out. He shuts his eyes and lets the machine inspect for the _imprint_. His heart is beating a hundred miles an hour, so loud he can hear it. Blood rushes in his ears, and the beginnings of a cool sweat break out on his forehead. Anxiety crawls up his spine, becoming gnarled roots that curl incessantly around his throat. 

Baekhyun hopes, _hopes_ the _imprint_ magically came up this morning, or maybe minutes ago, maybe at the back of his thigh or hips, or on his eyelid where he wouldn’t see. 

But when the room turns red and sirens wail, Baekhyun knows that hoping was pointless. 

Baekhyun squeezes his eyes shut tighter, and clenches his fists. The creaking of the door opening makes him turn around with watery eyes. 

\- 

Chanyeol buttons up his shirt and smiles thankfully to the lady at the computer before stepping out of the silver room. The hallway is quiet, and bare. Masses of metal doors line the walls evenly, each holding another teenager or child in an official check. He shoves his hands into his trouser pockets and begins the walk towards the exit. 

As he passes several rooms, a loud thumping attracts him. Chanyeol approaches the thudding, and peers into the circular window of the door, seeing red lights and men in uniform. As soon as the metallic door bursts open, sirens pierce Chanyeol’s ears, wailing loudly. He backs away, watching as men in gear file out. His eyes widen when he sees a man holding a naked teenage boy in his arms. 

“ _Baekhyun_!” Chanyeol shouts, but his voice can barely be heard over the sirens. He runs towards the men, meeting Baekhyun’s eyes. His voice falters at the sight of his boyfriend’s wrists bound with rope, and a piece of cloth stuffed in his mouth. Chanyeol reaches out only to be shoved away. He meets Baekhyun’s scared eyes once more, and tears threaten to fall. “Baek! I’m coming!” Chanyeol pushes one of the men, frustrated at the void response. “Get away! What are you doing with him?” 

The men ignore Chanyeol and push past him. Chanyeol runs after them until he collapses, tripping over his own two feet. He manages to meet Baekhyun’s eyes once more. Tears run down his face, dripping off his jaw. “Baek, wait for me! I’ll come!” He yells until his throat is raw. 

Baekhyun nods fiercely, and soon disappears around the corner. Chanyeol curls his fingernails into the concrete beneath him. The tears fall this time, worse than ever before, pouring like never-ending rivulets. He wipes them away angrily, and flinches when a hand touches his shoulder. 

“Park… Chanyeol?” 

Chanyeol brings himself to his feet, lifting his arm to dry his tears. “Who are you?” He stares at the lady in front of him, clad in a knee-length labcoat. A red pen is in the lady’s breast pocket, where her name has been stitched on. _Jung Youngdo._ Chanyeol drags his eyes up to the woman’s face, eyebrows furrowing at her composed form. 

“I go by Dr. Jung.” She frowns slightly. “You just witnessed a defective arrest.” Her mouth curls in disgust when she refers to Baekhyun. “You shouldn’t have witnessed a defective arrest.” 

“Where- where is Baekhyun going?” Chanyeol demands. He realizes what the doctor had called him. _A defective_. “Wait- a defective?” 

“Blank. No _imprint_.” She chuckles to herself, eyes trailing over Chanyeol’s messed up state. “A failure, and a pathetic excuse for a human being. He has no place in our society- in _anybody_ ’s society. And thankfully.” 

Anger crawls on Chanyeol’s skin, and he takes a step closer. His eyes are shaking, but he forces the tears back in. Guilt churns in his stomach, and maybe shame, but his anger for the doctor buries it all down deep. Chanyeol dares her to continue in his head. 

“Right now he is being brought to my lab. I’ll run a couple tests on him, scan properly to make sure he’s blank, and contact the people who kept hold of him.” 

“The people who kept hold of him?” Chanyeol glares at the woman. “You mean his _family_.” 

“No, no, don’t be absurd!” The lady laughs uncontrollably at the idea, but the laughter dies off as Chanyeol doesn’t join in. “A defective doesn’t have a _family_. I told you- defectives don’t have a place in our society-” 

Chanyeol takes another step closer and curls his fingers into the doctor’s lab coat, yanking her closer. Hatred bubbles hazardously in his stomach, almost spilling out. “ _Say that again._ I fucking dare you, you bitch.” 

The lady smirks, and Chanyeol doesn’t notice the hand moving to her pocket. “Chanyeol… Fighting isn’t worth anything for that boy.” She takes out the red pen and lifts her hand, the smug look everlasting. Before Chanyeol can even realise, she stabs him in the neck. The doctor lets out a long sigh as the teenager slumps against her, and eventually slides to the floor in a crumpled heap. 

“The amnesia dose only works for a couple weeks before fading away… And it will erase all memory traces of the history he had shared with the defective…” She bites her bottom lip as she glances at her watch. “Security! Get this boy back to his family before anyone finds out!” 

Dr. Jung steps over the body at her feet, clicking her tongue disappointedly. She nods as two men come bustling over, and lift the teenage boy. 

“Where to, Dr. Jung?” 

“Dr. Park’s house. Don’t speak a word about the boy witnessing the arrest. Dr. Park will be in the lab with me, so you shouldn’t get caught.” The two men nod. 

Dr. Jung’s mouth curls upwards in a devilish smile. She slides the red pen back into her breast pocket. “The poor kid messed with the wrong person.” 

\- 

“A defective?” 

Dr. Park frowns, circling the body in the center of the room. It’s petite, and bare, held up by wires and metal chains. He steps closer to inspect the naked skin, lifting his glasses momentarily. Dr. Jung hums, her heels click-clacking against the tiled floors as she approaches the professor. 

“Yes, he is: Byun Baekhyun, age 16.” 

Dr. Park furrows his eyebrows slightly. 

“Why, sir? Do you recognize him?” 

“I think I do. He’s one of my son’s friends. This is strange.” 

“Park Chanyeol?” Dr. Jung questions, and Dr. Park nods in return. “Yes, I remember seeing him on the day of the defective arrest.” 

“Did you? What happened, exactly?” 

“I managed to avert his gaze. Nobody would want to see a defective.” A smile skims along Jung’s lips, and she gestures towards the naked body in front of them with her pen. “He’s bare- completely bare. This is a wonder.” 

Park nods in agreement, ignoring Jung’s previous statement. He walks over to the computer, and opens up a file of information on Byun Baekhyun. “This certainly is… different. Usually, we’d expect to see some sort of beginnings of a mark, or alike. He is- this boy is clean. Check his DNA, and make sure his parents are legal and are on the system.” 

“The DNA test will take a couple hours, if not more, to come back to us from the hospital.” Jung taps her pen on the keyboard impatiently as the site loads. “Do you think he’s… resistant?” 

“To the outer land?” Park falls onto his seat, letting out a long sigh of thought. “A high, very high possibility he is. Other defectives, the ones with only a few marks of the imprint, have the ability to stay in the outer land untracked, but cannot survive a lifespan as long as we can in the inner land and are vulnerable to diseases. That’s why some of them sneak in annually, and get caught… what do they call it- _outlanders_? But him?” 

Park waves towards the slumped body hanging before them, and the corner of his mouth juts upwards. 

“He’ll be immune to diseases from the outer land, the radiation, and the oxygen. As valuable as he can be-” 

“No.” Jung stands up, anger blooming on her cheeks. “You can’t be actually considering keeping him alive? He’s a _defective_ , Dr. Park. A wrong in society, and a flaw in our system. Keeping him would be against all the laws, all the rules _our ancestors_ came up with together. The imprint makes sure we cannot enter the outer land- it makes sure that _the government_ and _we_ have full control over every citizen in this society in order to keep us all safe and stable! You can’t betray your own methods!” 

“We will calculate a few experiments on him. Mostly, blood transactions; if we insert his blood into our bloodstream, we might be able to explore the outer land. The imprint has lasted for too many generations, and there is no way to remove it. We cannot become weaklings with the inability to migrate further forever, Jung.” 

“Impossible.” Jung breathes shakily, steam blowing out her ears. She folds her arms over her chest and frowns. “Our immune system and blood will reject the defective’s almost immediately. But maybe, just _maybe_ , our body accepts it. We will ultimately die with the incapability of upholding the high immune system and sudden change. You can’t do this, Park. Execute the defective, and the case is solved. If we start experimenting, it will slowly become a suicide mission.” 

“If we start experimenting, we might save humanity.” Park stands up, eyebrows furrowed in confidence. “We can use him as a blood bank.” He gestures towards the unconscious body. “No one will get hurt, and nobody will need to know of our flaw.” 

“ _No_ , Park!” Jung growls. “We must show the public what a defective is, and the consequence. We must _execute_ this defective in front of the public, and display what an _error in our system_ is! This is the only way!” She steps closer, a growl resting on her bottom lip. “Listen to me!” 

There’s a moment of silence, where Dr. Park stands before a panting Dr. Jung. He takes a step back, and rubs the glass of his glasses clean with a handkerchief. 

“What was I thinking?” Dr. Park mutters, rubbing his eyes. He averts his gaze, and turns his back, resting palms on the study table. He watches the heart monitor tracking Baekhyun, watches it beep constantly, watches the beeping correlate with the soft wheezes of breaths sounding from behind him. 

Jung lets out a sigh of relief, collapsing onto her chair. “I’ll let the press know about the defective immediately.” 

\- 

Chanyeol sits up and gasps. He’s met with the sight of his bedroom dresser and dull blue wallpaper, and lets out a long sigh of relief. Did he just take a short nap? Chanyeol licks his lips, stretching his arms above him. He slumps back down with a long exhale, and then rolls off the bed to collapse on a heap onto the floor. 

“Chanyeol! Come downstairs!” 

“Coming mother!” 

He pulls himself to his feet, yawning out loud before scratching his jaw. Chanyeol scurries down the stairs and wanders into the kitchen, catching sight of Yoora making a cup of tea. “How was your final check, Chan?” 

Chanyeol lifts one eyebrow in confusion. “Final check?” 

Yoora laughs. “Yeah, dumbass. You just came back from one, and took a long ass nap. Did you forget already?” She grins, dipping the teabag into a mug of steaming water. “On your ankle. That’s what the papers that father sent home say.” 

Chanyeol frowns. “Hm…” He wracks his brain for the memory, but it seemed to have vanished completely. “I don’t remember anything.” Chanyeol lets out a sigh, leaning against the counter tops next to Yoora. “Noona, who is my soulmate?” 

“Who _is_ your soulmate, Yeollie?” Yoora questions back, grinning gleefully. “Check your ankle, stupid.” Chanyeol licks his bottom lip, and hikes his foot onto the counter, yanking the cuff of his jeans up. “Eugh! Feet off! They _stink_ , you bastard!” Yoora almost sobs tears, protecting the tea with her hands. “No! My tea!” 

“You _asked_ , sis.” Chanyeol sticks out his tongue, revealing the red ink: _Do Kyungsoo_. He reads it out slowly, feeling the syllables stutter off his tongue uncomfortably. “You know who this is?” 

Yoora tilts her head in thought. Outside, the sun begins to set. It sinks into the sky in slow motion, dipping yellow into blue. They both match gazes before a light bulb flickers above her head. “Kyungsoo!” She gasps, a smile gleaming on her mouth. “Short boy, big owl eyes, _very_ cute. I think he’s your style, Yeol.” 

“Really?” Chanyeol grins, both feet on the floor now. He shoves his hands in his jean pockets with a gushing grin. “Smaller than me? Petite?” 

“I don’t know about petite… but he is shorter. Although I think he would wear the pants in the relationship.” Yoora giggles, stirring her tea. She dumps another packet of sugar in, and Chanyeol visibly winces. “What?” 

“So much sugar. Too much sugar.” He shivers, shaking his body to exaggerate, and escapes the room before his sister can jump on him. He wanders his gaze towards the floor distantly- _Do Kyungsoo_. 

Chanyeol can’t stop the frown turning his lips down. _Do Kyungsoo. Do Kyungsoo._

__  


_Why doesn’t this feel right?_

\- 

Flashing lights, and wide screens. Chanyeol lolls his head back to read the huge block letters on the monitor painting every skyscraper and building in the town center. Billboards change to news screens and phones, tablets and computers wire into the news- there is nowhere you can look without catching a glimpse of the words or hearing the tension-strung music loop. Chanyeol’s eyes widen at the words, and a massive uproar begins in the thick crowd. On reflex, Chanyeol reaches down to grasp Kyungsoo’s hand, glancing to his side to see the smaller flush red. 

**_DEFECTIVE IDENTIFIED ON THIS MONTH’S OFFICIAL CHECK BY THE NAME OF BYUN BAEKHYUN._**

**__**  


The screen flickers, and the block letters morph into a newsroom. Chanyeol’s sister, Yoora, fills the screen; pale skin, slick back ponytail, big doll eyes and subtle lips. A surge of pride fills Chanyeol’s heart at his sister being on every screen in the country, but worry buries it deep down. As if ordered, silence settles over the bustling crowd, and everybody goes still to hear Yoora’s voice blare out from the speakers. 

“…we have been told by officials that the defective is to be executed in three days, in the town center. All of the public is expected to be there to witness, and if not able, then to live stream the execution. Defective going by the name of Byun Baekhyun-” Yoora stutters slightly, erupting into a series of coughs. A mumble of confusion runs amongst the crowd, a couple even throwing hate towards the ‘shitty news girl’ for having the incapability of doing her job. Yoora stumbles offscreen, and comes back a few seconds later with a water bottle in hand. The camera trembles slightly, and she clears her throat. “I’m sorry for the interruption. Byun Baekhyun… 16 years old, expected to be executed by gunshot. I repeat, in three days. Time is to be confirmed. Thank you.” 

Chanyeol frowns. _Byun Baekhyun_. He looks to his right to see Kyungsoo furrowing his eyebrows up at the blank screen. It takes a few seconds before the country returns back to normal, black, empty screens going back to videos or games; billboards going back to adverts. Chanyeol feels a tug at his right hand, and finds himself being guided out of the crowd and into a sparsely filled area. The local park- trees dot the area, and the scent of flowers lingers in the air. He breathes in fresh oxygen and lets out a sigh, collapsing onto a park bench with his head in his hands. 

“Do you believe it’s right?” Chanyeol’s voice shakes. The idea of a defective was taboo where they lived; everyone knew and understood what it meant, (lack of _imprint_ ) but nobody dared to bring up the subject. Now that it was being shoved into everyone’s faces, it wasn’t a surprise that it had caused such an outrage. 

“What, for the defective to be executed?” Kyungsoo takes a seat next to Chanyeol, and wraps an arm around the taller’s shaking shoulders. “Don’t be so down. There must be a reason we can’t have defectives living amongst us.” 

Chanyeol slowly lifts his head, bottom lip trembling. “Do you believe, then?” He wipes tears that haven’t fallen yet from his eyes, and breathes through his nose deeply. “Do you believe they should be killed for not fitting in?” 

Kyungsoo averts Chanyeol’s gaze for a moment, staring down at his shoes. There’s silence between them before he speaks up again. “Honestly…” Kyungsoo licks his lips. “No. I don’t believe it’s right. It isn’t the defective’s fault for not having the _imprint_. There’s nothing more that I feel for the poor boy than pity and injustice.” 

Chanyeol looks up, and feels Kyungsoo take his hand. 

“I think I’m just glad you don’t know the defective- It hurts for me to see you in pain.” 

A cherry blossom petal lands in Chanyeol’s hair. 

\- 

Baekhyun pulls his bare legs to his chest, shivering in the thin t-shirt he was given to cover himself up. He lifts his right hand, feeling his bottom lip tremble at the chains tightened around it, locking him to the wall. He leans back with a shaky breath, resting the back of his head onto concrete, shutting his eyes. 

_Think of hope. Think of happiness. Think of smiles._

Tears prick at his eyes at the memory of Chanyeol clawing the air, reaching out for him. Baekhyun’s shoulders tremble almost violently as a sob is wretched out of him, long and hard, tears slipping down his face like jet streams. He digs his fingers down onto tar and dust, forcing himself to cry quieter, to suffer quieter. Choked sobs try their hardest escaping him, his body shaking even more as tremors strike his heart through like daggers. 

“Byun Baekhyun?” 

Baekhyun’s head snaps upwards at the voice cutting through the air. He sees a shadow at the bars ahead of him, a pale hand carrying a key that jingles too loudly. The figure is masculine and tall, and a lab coat reaches his knees. Baekhyun tries standing up, but the chain restricts him and he finds himself tripping and collapsing onto his knees, letting out a shattered cry at the pain shooting up his body like arrows at the impact. 

“Fucking hell! Fucking chains!” Baekhyun screams between frustrated tears, yanking viciously on the metal rope binding him to the wall. “Let go! Let me go!” he turns his head to meet the shadow with bleary eyes, and lets out a tortured scream. “Let me go! Let me see him! He’s waiting for me!” His screams echo lonely in the cell, twisted notes cracking off the tongue. 

“Be quiet.” The man interrupts, and the keys bump the bars, a sadistic melody ringing through the air. He lifts a card attached to the keys, and squats down so he’s eye level with Baekhyun. 

“Let me go.” The words fall out of Baekhyun’s mouth like dry dust, hopeless and disturbing. Baekhyun slumps, squeezing his eyes shut in anger as more tears drip down his face. “Please. _Please_. I’m begging you. Don’t let me die. _Please_.” 

“Listen carefully, boy.” 

Baekhyun sniffles, eyes swollen, oddity tingeing his body back to life. 

“I will slide the key card through the bars and to you. You will use the key with the sticker to unlock your chain, and then you will use the key card to unlock the cell. You will run from then on, and use the same key card to gain access to each exit. You will run, as hard as you can.” 

_Hope_ . Baekhyun’s eyes widen at the prospect, his head lifting higher. “Who- who are you- what are you-” 

The figure steps into the harsh white light, revealing large eyes, sticky-out ears and spectacles. Baekhyun trails his gaze down to the name stitched onto the lab coat, and almost passes out in shock. 

“Dr. Park?” 

“My son loved you very much.” Dr. Park lowers his eyes, fingers fiddling with the key card in his hands. “You don’t deserve this. I never liked you, Byun, but _you don’t deserve this_.” 

Baekhyun takes his bottom lip between his teeth, biting so hard he swears he can taste the metallic tang of blood. Dr. Park tilts his head up to meet Baekhyun’s hard gaze. 

“I will leave after giving you the key card. Afterwards- afterwards, I can help you no longer. Afterwards, if you get caught, I won’t help you.” 

“I understand. I understand!” Baekhyun gasps, his heart pounding at the idea of escaping. “The key card!” 

The scraping of plastic and metal against dust and concrete is loud in the air, as it reaches Baekhyun’s shaking fingertips. Dr. Park brings himself to his feet, and throws a last nod towards Baekhyun’s direction. 

“Be safe, Byun Baekhyun.” 

Baekhyun’s fingers fumble with the keys, searching frantically for the sticker. He looks up once to meet Dr. Park’s gaze in a mutual agreement, and then dives for the chain’s keyhole. The bronze key slots in perfectly, and with one twist the cuff attached to the wall falls open. Baekhyun wheezes in delight, lifting the chain with him. He slings it carefully over his left shoulder, his left hand tracing the weighty metal once before dropping down to his side. He grips the keycard in his right hand (still adorned with the metal cuff) and rushes to the iron door. 

_“Work, please work_ !” Baekhyun begs out loud, and presses the plastic card against the black scanner. 

_Beep_ . 

The door clicks open. Baekhyun almost cries in relief, and slides out of the cell. Another door blocks his way, and he uses the card to get through. Two men are situated at another door ahead, their backs facing Baekhyun. 

Baekhyun’s heart pounds furiously in his chest, and his left hand pats aimlessly at his shoulder for the chain. He doesn’t know what to do. His mind is jumbled, and his breathing is scattered. Baekhyun was never trained for this, and he didn’t have the intelligence to think tactically. He sets his jaw, clenching his fists by his sides. Then he breathes in deeply, lets out a shaky breath… 

And makes a run for it. His left hand grips the chain like a vice, swinging it wildly in the air like a lasso. In one go, he slices the chain through the two bodies, eyes squeezed shut as he uses all his strength and momentum to cut through the two guards. 

The heavy weight of the chain makes him fall to his knees after, chest heaving up and down as he breathes loudly. _Did I kill them_? Baekhyun looks up slowly, and immediately falls backwards at the sight. 

The two guards aren’t hurt. The two guards are still there. And the two guards still have their backs facing Baekhyun. 

“N-No way…” Baekhyun brings himself to his feet, carefully placing the chain back over his left shoulder. It digs into his shoulder blade and he winces, before lifting a hand to wave through the guard’s body. “A hologram…?” 

The realization makes Baekhyun scramble for the key card, which was on the floor after the fall. He quickly scans the card and the doors click open, revealing another set of guards and another metal door. It’s a gamble: Baekhyun runs for it, and yells out a war cry. He doesn’t try swinging the chain, but keeps his left hand on it in case. Then he skids to a slippery stop behind the two guards, jaw falling open, as they remain unfazed. 

He repeats the process, thankful for the countless number of holograms, and unlocks the door at each stage. With a heaving chest, he slams his body weight onto the iron door, pushing it open, letting out a sigh of relief at the silent _whoosh_ it makes. The next room is different. Several guards are situated at each door, and several archways lead to different rooms. He’s about to test his luck with his war cry, his hand placed on his chain for protection- 

Baekhyun’s eyes widen in frantic fear as a hand slaps over his mouth, shutting him up. He feels himself being dragged to the side of the room, and his feet struggle wildly before going limp, knowing doing anything wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He’s pulled into an empty corridor before being slammed against the wall, hand still over his mouth. 

A face hovers over his, handsome and dark. The man is wearing uniform, and flicks his eyes from the other guards to Baekhyun constantly. Black hair falls over the tops of his eyebrows, which are furrowed. Downturned lips match the worry lines on his face, masking youth. 

“Don’t speak. I’m here to help you. If you be quiet, I’ll smuggle you out. If you scream, we’ll both die.” 

The words take a second to process. Baekhyun has a hand wrapped around the hand over his mouth, and he digs his fingernails deeper into the pale skin, hoping pain will make the soldier back off. His eyes well up with discouraged tears at the failed attempt, and he has no choice but to nod furiously in forced agreement. 

Slowly, the soldier takes off his hand. His eyes are wide and focused, hand steady as he cautiously moves it to his side. “I presume you are Byun Baekhyun.” His other hand reaches up to press a thumb onto the petal curve of Baekhyun’s bottom lip, watching roses bloom on flustered cheeks. “You look even prettier in person.” 

Baekhyun lowers his gaze, heart thundering against his chest too fast. He forces himself to meet the soldier’s pretty brown eyes, but his mind thinks of heartbeats and cherry blossom petals and _Chanyeol Chanyeol Chanyeol_ instead. A tear slips out of his left eye, and he mentally beats himself up for appearing so weak and fragile in front of the man. 

“Let’s go. Keep behind me at all times- can you climb down a building?” Baekhyun’s heart beats less hard, realizing the man was purposely ignoring the crack in the surface. 

“Do you _think_ I can climb down a building?” He jabs, unable to bite back the snarl in his voice. He’s held it in too long. The soldier turns to furrow his eyebrows. 

“You’re doing it now, anyway.” The soldier grasps Baekhyun’s hand and tugs, pulling the thin boy along. Their footsteps echo too loudly in the hallway, sliding against the ground, as they approach the large window at the end. “Get on my back. I’ll carry you down.” 

Baekhyun almost scoffs, and lets go of the soldier’s hand. “No thanks. I’m not your damsel in distress.” 

“This isn’t the right time to play ‘big guy’, Baekhyun. Get on my back- it’ll take a lot less time.” The soldier jeers, waving Baekhyun over. 

“I _said-”_ Baekhyun breathes through his teeth, as the soldier opens the window. “No thanks.” He takes one step out of the window, right leg trembling. One glance down has him wheezing, the world dropping askew. His mind dizzies at the height he’s at. He turns to look back at the soldier. “How do I get down?” 

The soldier scoffs, and slides his hands under Baekhyun’s arms, hoisting him up. Baekhyun lets out a yelp of surprise as he’s thrown over the soldier’s back and immediately wraps himself around the soldier’s body when he climbs over the window, hovering on the ledge dangerously. Baekhyun shuts his eyes tight, digging his blunt cut fingernails into the soldier’s shoulders, letting out a shock of breath as they jump down to a lower level, landing with a huff. 

“My name is Junmyeon, by the way.” The soldier speaks over the whistling of wind as they drop another level down. He chuckles at Baekhyun’s gasp, and can’t contain the smirk lying on his lips. “What’s this about _no thanks_ , again?” 

“Fuck off.” Baekhyun hisses, and digs one fingernail especially hard into Junmyeon’s shoulder. He rolls his eyes, and drops another. Nobody has spotted them yet, though they move like birds on a fence, easy to pick out and kill. They’re so close. 

Then metal whizzes through the air, flying just past the tip of Baekhyun’s right ear. 

Junmyeon’s grip on Baekhyun’s thighs tighten. “Fuck. There’s no way they found us out already.” 

Baekhyun’s eyes widen, and he grips Junmyeon’s shoulders. “What do you mean? Who found us out?” 

Junmyeon quickly drops down to the last level, and lets go of Baekhyun. They immediately begin to run just as a flurry of bullets rain down on them. Junmyeon leads the way, running around the building to reach a standstill. His eyes flit frantically, and he quickly turns to face Baekhyun. “I can’t accompany you further, as planned. I’ll cover for you here. Go to your house. Get your things, and head for the outerlands. There will be no security there since our team hijacked the system.” 

Baekhyun shakes his head, disbelief painting him a pale color of white. “Outerlands? I’ll die. I’m not stupid.” 

“No!” Junmyeon frowns, and pats at his holster. He thrusts a handgun into Baekhyun’s chest, and turns his head as the sound of marching footsteps approaches them. “You’re immune. It’s why you don’t have the _imprint_ , Baekhyun.” Junmyeon frowns, and then glances at the gun that’s now in Baekhyun’s hand. “Run! Run, now!” 

Then Junmyeon slumps, dropping to the floor like deadweight. Baekhyun sprints. He runs at the speed of lightning, gun shaking in his hands. His heartbeat thunders so loud he can’t hear his own mind think and the blood rushes so fast in his ears he can’t hear anything. He chokes back a sob, running a little faster, letting his instincts lead his way. He turns, and slows down at the sight of nothing but endless roads. The gun in his hand is squeezed so tightly, but his finger remains weightless on the trigger. 

_Home_ . Baekhyun almost gasps in relief at the sight of the familiar concrete driveway, the familiar beaten brown door. He clambers up the steps and shakes the doorknob. At finding it locked, he immediately drops to dive under the welcome mat to unlock the door with the spare key, and bursts into the house with bated breath. It takes seconds for him to skid up the steps, to his bedroom, searching frantically for proper clothes to wear. 

He pulls on a t-shirt, and sweats, trembling slightly as realization settles onto him like second skin. Junmyeon falling, blood gurgling out of his mouth like bubbled gas. The metal industrial chain he left at the building. Dr. Park sliding the keycard across the ground, to his own quaking hands. 

Baekhyun grasps at the handgun on the bed and runs like a madman down the steps and out of the house. He remembers seeing and hearing a flurry of his mother, of his father, of the crackling television and his older brother laughing. 

_No. Forget it all_ . 

Baekhyun’s face hardens, the grip on his gun tightening as he runs towards the outerlands. 

Then he passes _that house_. 

\- 

Yoora’s eyes quiver in disbelief. She grabs at Chanyeol’s hands over the kitchen island counter, squeezing tightly, the pads of her fingertips pressing into his palms. 

“Baekhyun. _How could you not remember Baekhyun_?” She stresses, frustration steaming through her words. Chanyeol furrows his eyebrows in confusion, pulling to let go of his sister’s harsh grip. “You spent your life with him, Yeol. I know you have a soulmate and you two have separated- but how can you forget him so soon? How!” 

Chanyeol’s eyes water at Yoora’s outrage, and he lowers his gaze. His head hurts, throbbing with an intense migraine. He’s tried so hard to remember Baekhyun. He’s tried, through Yoora’s distress, through his father’s frowns, through his mother’s gasps of shock. He’s tried for days, so much that he’s discarded Kyungsoo like a used doll, leaving the older abandoned. 

“He’s a defective, Chanyeol. You both loved each other- so, _so_ much.” Yoora gasps through tears, shaking her head wildly. “You were so in love. _So in love_.” She reaches again for Chanyeol’s hand and squeezes tightly. 

“Noona.” Chanyeol shuts his eyes, letting go of Yoora’s hand. “I don’t remember a thing. I don’t remember _anything_.” 

Yoora steps back, her face laced with incredulity, and she turns her head. Her fingers fumble with a mug of steaming tea, and she shakily brings the mug up to her face. “Just go, Chanyeol. I suggest you attend to Kyungsoo, who’s in the living room.” 

Chanyeol’s eyes widen, and he grips the countertop. “He’s here? _Noona_!” He hisses, eyes lit with rage. “Why didn’t you tell me beforehand!” 

“Because you would’ve asked him to go back home.” Yoora says, and takes a sip from the mug. “He’s lonely. You’ve used him like a toy, Chanyeol. _Go_ !” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Chanyeol lowers his head, his right hand resting on Kyungsoo’s lap. They’re both sitting on the living room couch, the TV turned off and the windows wide open. A breeze wafts into the room, billowing the curtains. 

“For what?” 

Kyungsoo’s voice is flat, untouched- a mask of hurt. He pushes Chanyeol’s hand off and turns the corners of his lips downwards in disappointment. 

“For-” 

“For ignoring me? For rejecting my many calls? For asking me to leave every time I came over?” The snarl in Kyungsoo’s voice hits Chanyeol right in the heart. He turns his gaze once more and frowns. 

“I-I’m sorry!” Chanyeol cries out, his voice cracking in the stress of saying it. Kyungsoo shakes his head, eyes down. He doesn’t move as Chanyeol shifts closer. 

He doesn’t move as Chanyeol places a hand on the back of his neck. He doesn’t move as Chanyeol lifts his chin with his other hand. He also doesn’t move as their lips meet, Chanyeol’s eyes squeezed shut, pushing feverishly against his. 

\- 

Baekhyun loosens his hold on the handgun, eyeing the familiar tall windows and brick. He takes a step up the driveway, voice choking up in his throat at the memory. Coming over at night, sleeping in Chanyeol’s bed, the rub of Chanyeol’s big t-shirts against his skin and bedsheets. 

He takes another step forwards; his hand is ready to press the doorbell, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. Then the window suddenly comes into focus, and two figures inside catch his eye. 

Chanyeol has his lips against another’s, his hand curled into the smaller’s jet black hair. They’re both on the living room couch, the other pressed into the large cushions. They pull back for breath before Chanyeol stands up to tug the boy up to his feet, pulling him up the stairs. 

Baekhyun’s mouth falls open, his eyes widening. The gun drops to the ground with a piercing clatter, and makes Baekhyun fall to the floor with fervor to pick it up once more. Tears fall like rain in a thunderstorm whilst his hands press against cobblestone and pavement, his teardrops wetting the ground beneath him. He breathes in shakily through heavy sobs, the tears clouding his vision. 

_Dear Chanyeol,_

__  


_This is stupid and super old-school of me. To write a letter. Who would’ve guessed, huh?_

__  


_Well, I hope you’ve been doing okay. I’m doing fine- besides the fact that I’m a defective and that I’m being hunted down for and all. But it’s okay. I’ll make it to the outerlands, and you’ll never see me again._

__  


_I see you have a soulmate. I’m happy for you. No, I truly am. I hope you and him live happily ever after together, and live a better life and relationship than we did. But I also want to talk with you. I’ll meet you at the border in two days- please don’t tell anyone._

__  


_But I am doing utterly amazing. Trust me._

__  


_Love,_

_Byun Baekhyun._

The paper crumples in Baekhyun’s fist as he drops it in front of the house front door and runs away. 

\- 

The outerlands are endless. 

Baekhyun eyes the fence lining the outerlands. Past this point, a regular human being in the system would die. They would never have the chance of surviving. 

Baekhyun pulls himself over the fence. He lands on his two feet on the ground, dust puffing around his worn down sneakers. The handgun is still in his grip. 

“Regular human being.” He murmurs, and takes another cautious step forwards. “I’m a regular human being.” He tells himself, eyes shut tight. 

“You’re not a regular human being.” 

Baekhyun jumps at the voice, hands raised. His gun waves aimlessly in the air, and he spins on his heel frantically to find the culprit. His feet skid against the ground, conjuring dust clouds. 

“Over here, blind ass.” 

Baekhyun’s eyes widen at the words, and he finally catches sight of the voice-bearer. A boy is standing, perched behind a leave-less tree. His hair falls over his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth curl upwards like a cat. Baekhyun almost laughs at the absurdity of it all. 

“Who are you?” Baekhyun lifts his gun and watches the boy step out into the empty area, both hands raised as the corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk. 

“Kim Jongdae, pleased to meet you.” He bows deep, and then approaches Baekhyun. 

“Byun Baekhyun.” 

“Ah, the defective.” Jongdae is mindless of Baekhyun’s wince, and smiles. “I’m one of the camp scouts. I linger around this area to find new outerlanders.” 

“Outerlanders?” The other’s voice lilts at the name. 

“Don’t tell me you don’t know?” Jongdae grins, folding his arms over his chest. “It’s the _creative_ phrase to name the people- us- resistant to the outerlands. Yixing coined it, but Yixing’s also a sleepy airhead who’s always high on some kind of drug, so the government officially used it to define us.” Jongdae laughs to himself, and then looks straight into Baekhyun’s eye. “We live further in. I’ll lead you there, if you want.” 

“If I want?” Baekhyun tilts his head. “And if I don’t want…?” 

Jongdae cackles, stepping forwards to be face-to-face with Baekhyun. “You’ll be left here, and be picked off by the government like ants on a table. Squashed with a thumb.” Jongdae’s hands form a gun and he aims it to Baekhyun, his fingers pressing against the other’s forehead. “Shot, and killed, like a still bird.” 

Baekhyun shuffles backwards, licking his dry lips. “I’ll go, then.” Confidence bursts into his sentence. 

“That’s exactly what I thought.” Jongdae grins, his lips curling upwards, and shoves his hands into his trouser pockets. Baekhyun jogs to Jongdae’s side, and they walk into the outerlands together. 

“Okay, so the clothes stalls are here.” Jongdae waves a hand towards the several wooden picket stalls put up, the rooves draped over with red fabric. Behind them are two huge tents, big enough to fit around 70 to 80 people. “And there’s the market. We get our goods from hunting, which- if you explore further into the outerlands, is from the greens.” 

“The greens?” They both walk around a bundle of kids playing with string, accompanied by the loud yell of cheers and musical instruments. 

“It’s a place full of trees that touch the sky, thick with green leaves and a mass of undergrowth. I’ve been there before with my dad and the hunting crew, but that was a couple years ago. We collect vegetables from there. Killing animals is only allowed once a month, so there’s a special week where the market sells only meat.” 

“Oh.” Baekhyun can’t deny he’s in shock and amazement. He’s always imagined the outerlands as being a dry, deserted place of death since he was young. Perhaps it was because the government wanted everyone to believe so. 

“The market is in that big tent.” Jongdae points to it with an outstretched arm, and Baekhyun nods in acknowledgement. “And we sleep in different tents. We’re allowed to put up our own tents, but we just need to confirm with the leader.” Jongdae walks past the bustle of life in near the market tent, and Baekhyun follows in haste. “Since I picked you up, you’re sleeping in my tent. We’ll need to pick up an extra mattress for you some time before nightfall.” 

Further into the makeshift town, Baekhyun finds himself in front of a medium sized purple tent. It towers over Baekhyun still, and he can’t help but tilt his head back with his jaw dropped. 

Jongdae grins at the reaction, and steps forwards to pull up the flap of the tent. Baekhyun pulls the flap back up after Jongdae disappears inside. The interior of the tent is simple; there are mattresses laid out, nine to be exact, and a light dangles from the ceiling of the tent. Jongdae flops onto the mattress in the middle, and spreads his arms wide. “Zitao, say hi to our new tent-mate.” 

The boy in the corner of the tent lifts his head. He’s bandaging his knuckles, a small smile dancing on his lips at the sight of Baekhyun. 

“Hi there. I’m Zitao.” 

“He isn’t that creepy. Baek. He’s Chinese; his family crash-landed a distance away from this camp, and Zitao was the only one who made it out alive and managed to find it. At the feeble age of 10, if I remember correctly?” 

Zitao nods, and begins to bandage his other hand. Baekhyun’s eyes drag over the cut running up his arm. 

“His Korean’s a little rusty, so don’t make fun of him for it.” Jongdae rolls over so he’s on his stomach. 

“I’m a fighter.” Zitao says quietly, noticing the way Baekhyun stares at his bruises like their artwork. 

Baekhyun nods slightly, still staring. 

“He means he goes undercover. Like Yifan and Sehun- and Junmyeon, too.” Jongdae sits up immediately, his hair in a messy tuft on his head. “Where _is_ Junmyeon anyway? He told us before he left that he was out to find you. _The infamous defective_.” 

Baekhyun turns, his mouth falling open. The memory of Junmyeon slumping against his body, the blood bubbling out of his mouth, the dead eyes, strike through his mind like photo frames. 

“He’s-” Baekhyun lowers his gaze, biting on his bottom lip. His eyes harden. “He’s dead.” 

Sehun’s a skinny boy with too long limbs. His mouth is pressed into a straight line when he enters the tent, clad in a bulletproof vest and cargo pants. His hair is matted to his forehead from sweat, and his skin is slick. His biceps flex as he pulls up the tent flap. 

“Junmyeon is dead?” 

The words come out of his mouth plain, but broken. Baekhyun’s heart falters at the sight of the boy’s eyes melting, and hardening. Like a flickering lamp, Sehun is clearly trying to hold himself together; to keep himself from crying. 

Jongdae jumps to his feet to comfort Sehun, pulling the taller into a tight embrace. Sehun doesn’t reject it, instead pushing his face into Jongdae’s shoulder, sniffling silently against fabric like he doesn’t want anyone to know. 

Someone else enters the tent, glancing towards the sobbing pair. “So it’s true.” 

Zitao looks up at the voice. “Yixing-hyung.” 

Yixing shakes his head, swiping his eye with the back of his hand. His shirt is stained with dyes, and his cheek is smeared with something orange. Baekhyun watches Jongdae let go of Sehun to hug Yixing. 

“Yifan and Minseok are coming. Luhan’s still at training.” 

“Jongin?” Jongdae asks, and Yixing lowers his gaze. 

“He’s getting shit wasted again at the bar.” 

Jongdae’s eyes burn with fire at the sentence. “That boy- that boy has no pride. Or respect.” Jongdae spits out the words, tears watering his eyes. “He should be here, not at a bar. That stupid boy.” 

Sehun frowns, pressing a hand onto Jongdae’s shoulder. “Hyung, you know him. Ever since- Ever since…” 

“He’s hopeless, Sehun.” 

The tent flap opens once more to reveal two men- one is lanky and tall, and the other is more buff and shorter. Without words, all six of them form a tight circle to hug, wheezing together, crying together, comforting together. 

Baekhyun stands at the edge, helpless, not knowing what to do other than watch them break down slowly from their best friend’s death. 

A tall boy stumbles into the tent when everyone but Baekhyun is fast asleep. 

Or so Baekhyun thought. 

As the man stumbles in, Sehun fumbles to his feet. He quietly walks towards the boy, easing him towards the side of the tent near Baekhyun, and sits him down. 

“Why were you drinking again, Jongin?” 

Baekhyun shuts his eyes tight to mime sleeping, although curiosity eventually lures them back open. 

Jongin shrugs at the question, his mouth stretching into a lazy smile. 

“It’s my fucking hands, Sehun.” He drawls, hiccups, and laughs. 

Sehun shuts him up with a hand slapped over his mouth, and pushes him down so his head hits the pillow. 

“Go to sleep, Jongin. Sleep the hangover away, and apologize to Jongdae in the morning- to _all_ of us.” 

Jongin lowers his gaze and shuts his eyes. “Junmyeon died, didn’t he?” Jongin scoffs. “I don’t give three shits.” 

“You care, Jongin.” Sehun hisses, voice shaking in disbelief. “You care so much.” 

“No, I fucking don’t.” Jongin spits, and turns. Sehun shuffles back to his mattress, and once his head falls against the pillow silence fills the air. 

When Baekhyun turns, he meets Jongin’s eye. They both stare at each other for a while, their gazes lingering in the air, before a tear slips out of Jongin. It slides down his nose and to the pillow, and soon soft sniffles fill the air. 

Baekhyun shuts his eyes, feeling guilty for having invaded a private moment. 

_You care_ . 

It’s the dead of the night, and Baekhyun’s still awake. His body is lying on Junmyeon’s mattress. He feels out of place, and almost like a traitor. Someone lifts the tent flap, and a face lit by moonlight appears. It’s beautiful, and Baekhyun is absorbed as the man makes its way to the other side of the tent, sitting down on his mattress. 

“You’re the defective Jongdae found, aren’t you?” The boy catches Baekhyun’s eye. 

Baekhyun nods, and watches as the boy slides underneath his blankets. 

“Our Junmyeon died because of you, I suppose then?” the boy furrows his eyebrows, before slumping against his mattress. “My name is Luhan. I am Chinese, so my Korean is not amazing. But I do know one thing.” 

Baekhyun licks his lips. He forces himself to not feel subdued by the accusation. 

“I will not blame you again. It was not your fault.” 

Luhan then turns his body, and with the help of moonlight and the blowing wind, Baekhyun finds himself slipping into sleep. 

“My hands don’t work, if you’re wondering.” 

Jongin’s voice cuts through the silence. Baekhyun had made his way over to the bar, in hopes of finding something to drink. He had completely forgotten what a drunkard Jongin was, and the realization hits him as he sees the boy’s back from the tent entrance, sitting atop of one of the bar stools. 

“Then how are you drinking that?” Baekhyun points as Jongin lifts the glass of beer up shakily to his lips. 

It slips between his fingers and clatters against the bar top, not at a high enough height to shatter, but enough to make a noise loud enough to attract the bartender. 

The beer spills onto the countertop, and the bartender rolls her eyes before swiping the mess away with a wet towel. 

“It only works sometimes.” Jongin grins cynically, and waves his hand for another beer. 

“So why do you drink, then?” 

Jongin sighs. “I can’t do anything else.” He thanks the bartender at the beer pushed towards him. “I used to be an undercover fighter, just like Junmyeon was.” He lifts the glass of beer up to his lips. “I can’t point and aim a gun. I can’t throw a punch for life.” 

Jongin scoffs, and swallows the beer down with his adam’s apple bobbing,. “I fucking hate it. I hate all of it, and never deserved any of it.” 

“But people are trying to help- Sehun’s trying to help.” 

“Sehun is in love with me- that’s why.” Jongin laughs, and swallows down a mouthful of beer. “He helps me because he’s infatuated with me. But I don’t like him.” 

Jongin glances down his nose and frowns. “I met a pretty boy while I was going undercover. Pretty enough for me to fall in love. Going on the undercover missions was the only way I could meet him. We would fuck, and talk, and kiss, and then I would go back to camp.” 

A shaky sob makes its way out of Jongin’s throat. “He’s probably forgotten me by now. I fucking hate it. The leader won’t let me leave the camp because of my fucking hands. I can’t fucking do _shit_ , and I can’t meet K- I can’t meet him.” 

Baekhyun scoots closer to wrap and arm around Jongin’s shoulders, resting a cheek against the taller’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry for telling you all this. I just think- I just think you deserve to know.” 

Baekhyun nods quietly, and lets Jongin cry on his shoulder. 

Two days after the incident, Baekhyun is standing in front of Jongdae. 

“I need to go to the border.” 

Jongdae laughs out loud, and gestures to the market and crowd. 

“Why the fuck would you go back to that hell hole?” He grins. “It’s much better here, Baekhyun.” 

“I just- I just need to go for a while. Just for a moment.” 

Jongdae’s smile falls as he realizes how serious Baekhyun is. He steps forward and presses his mouth against Baekhyun’s ear. 

“Are you sure? It’s unsafe now that there’s guards.” 

“Can’t you ward them off for a couple minutes?” 

Jongdae frowns. 

“How serious is this?” Jongdae’s voice lifts as the music increases in volume. “I can pull a couple strings for you, Baek, but you’ll only get half an hour max. I can promise you that.” 

Baekhyun nods vigorously, hair bobbing. “Okay! That’s good enough!” 

\- 

The memories hit Chanyeol like a freight train. 

First, it’s the kissing. The hand holding and the hugging. The cherry blossom trees and the embraces. Then it’s the heartbeats, the wrists, the hands. It’s only when Chanyeol sits up straight in his bed, out of breath, that he remembers the love making and the sirens and sight of Baekhyun being pulled out of the test rooms. 

And it’s then, in the early scrapes of the morning, that he opens the door to find the flimsy note at his feet labeled _CHANYEOL_. And it’s then, that he opens and reads the note with trembling hands. 

_In two days_ . 

Chanyeol breathes tightly between his teeth, the fresh morning air hitting his cheeks as tears fall. 

He doesn’t notice his father by the window, spectacles lying low on the bridge of his nose. 

The fence lining the border is a couple feet away. Chanyeol wheezes slightly at the waft of air from the outerlands, and he forces himself a few more steps. He sees a lone body standing by the fence, and at that Chanyeol finds the strength in him to run a little, pushing his steps further. 

“Baekhyun-ah!” 

Chanyeol’s voice is loud over the wind. The boy looks up, and his eyes water with tears at the sight of Chanyeol running towards him. Chanyeol dives flush against Baekhyun with open arms, engulfing the smaller in a long hug. It almost shocks the breath out of Baekhyun, who responds by meekly lifting his hands to Chanyeol’s waist. 

“I-” Chanyeol lifts his hands to press against Baekhyun’s cheeks, his eyes shaking at the sight of Baekhyun. “I couldn’t remember a thing. An amnesia dose made me forget you specifically.” 

Baekhyun lowers his gaze, tears slipping out of his eyes. Chanyeol slides his thumb against Baekhyun’s cheek, and presses his lips against Baekhyun’s nose. 

“I still love you Baek. I still love you so much it’s unreal and-” Chanyeol sobs through small laughter, his open palm pushed flush against Baekhyun’s chest, the smaller’s heartbeat beating steadily against his hand. “And you’re alive- after what they’ve done to you. I’m sorry for lying, Baekhyun, I’m sorry for being such a-” 

Baekhyun pushes Chanyeol away slightly, averting his gaze. “We’re a fucking mess, Yeol. And you have a soulmate.” The memory of Chanyeol kissing the boy fills Baekhyun’s mind. 

Chanyeol shakes his head, tears flying as they escape his eyes. “No!” Chanyeol grips Baekhyun’s hand, lifting it so his palm rests against his heartbeat. “We _are_! We don’t need the fucking shitty system to tell us!” 

Baekhyun shuts his eyes, ignoring the enraged tears and wheezes that Chanyeol emits. “I still love you, and it feels like a fucking curse, Yeol.” 

Chanyeol’s hands rest against Baekhyun’s cheeks and he leans down to meet Baekhyun’s lips, tears still falling. They meet and Baekhyun tastes salt and wet and bites Chanyeol’s bottom lip, his hands gripping Chanyeol’s wrists tightly. Chanyeol pushes Baekhyun so his back leans against the fence, and even though the taller is wheezing slightly from the air from the outerlands he doesn’t let go, doesn’t step back. 

Sirens wail from behind them and the marching of soldiers fills their ears. Chanyeol is forced to let go as Baekhyun snatches his grip away, eyes wide in shock. 

“Thank you very much for revealing the location to us, Chanyeol.” 

Dr Jung’s voice infiltrates the air, and Baekhyun steps back to find himself unable to against the fence, eyes filled with betrayal and tears. Chanyeol shakes his head, confusion and anger making his knuckles burn white in clenched fists. 

“What the fuck do you mean?” Chanyeol furrows his eyebrows. “I didn’t tip you off.” 

Dr. Jung steps forward and taps on the black pin on Chanyeol’s shirt. 

“No, you didn’t.” She grins. “But the tracker your father pinned to your shirt did, and that’s good enough for me.” 

\- 

Baekhyun is stripped of all his clothes. Wires hang him up in the air as he’s back in the lab he was in previously. 

He can’t cry anymore. The tears have dried on his cheeks. 

He remembers being pulled away from Chanyeol- the tears and yells of apologies from the taller ingrained into Baekhyun’s memory. He remembers being yanked over the fence, accompanied by men in gas masks, a gun pressed to the side of his head as he’s forced to show the soldiers where the camp was located. 

He remembers shaking his head and being shot in the hip, just as Jongdae appears from behind a tree. Then everything unravels, starting from the soldiers capturing Jongdae, to everyone else in the camp. They shoot everyone. _Everyone_. 

Baekhyun remembers seeing Luhan’s blood spilling at his feet, Sehun trying to fight back but failing as he’s pressed against a clothes stall and shot. Jongin flailing as he’s killed. Baekhyun sobbing through it all, as Yifan’s shot and Minseok’s found hiding with Yixing. Both are killed with easy guns to the head, as Baekhyun claws at the soldiers, his voice stressing with pleas. 

_They don’t deserve this. They don’t deserve any of this_ . 

“Your execution is tomorrow.” 

Dr. Park’s voice makes Baekhyun snap his head up. 

“Please.” 

Baekhuyn’s voice comes out weak and fragile. Dr. Park spares one last glance towards the body in the air, and then slams the door of the lab shut as he goes out. 

\- 

Baekhyun kneels, lowering his face. He closes his mind to shouts of verbal abuse from the crowd. The man in front of him uses the gun to lift his head. Baekhyun catches eyes with the massive expanse of people, all pushed up against one another. He sees a boy with big ears and big eyes in the crowd, helpless as he is shoved around, staring deep into Baekhyun’s eyes. There are tears spilling on his face, drip dropping off his jaw. Baekhyun shuts his eyes, forces himself not to cry. 

The gun is pressed against his forehead. The cheers and shouts from the crowd get louder and louder. Baekhyun breathes in deep. When he opens his eyes again, he doesn’t break eye contact with Chanyeol; instead, he presses a hand to his heart, and hears it pound steadily. He sees Chanyeol do the same. 

The gun shot sounds so loud, it deafens the crowd into silence. Baekhyun collapses in a heap on the stage. 

Chanyeol presses his hand harder against his chest. It beats, a constant reminder. A breath, a pulse- an even drum. 

He shuts his eyes. 

**Author's Note:**

> firstly thank you to the mods for hosting this angst-filled fest, who i apOLOGISE DEEPLY TO FOR NOT SUBMITTING THIS ON TIME. and thank you to D, my beta who beta-d half the damn story bc I'm a fucking forgetful mess aghhh. this barely got over the word count but lets just thank the God it made it over in the end *wipes brow


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